


What Christmas Means To Me

by lupwned



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Christmas, F/F, Fluff, Holidays, Yep it's a Christmas fiiiiiic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-11 07:27:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8967736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lupwned/pseuds/lupwned
Summary: I see your smiling faceLike I've never seen beforeEven though I love you madlyIt seems I love you moreThe little card you give meWill touch my heart for sureAll these things and more, darlingThat's what Christmas means to me my loveIt shouldn’t be this simple to make her come undone, but Erin’s a flustered mess when Holtzmann reaches up to pull the pins out of her hair. There’s a thin layer of melting snow flurries across the frizzy curls on the top of her head, a result of their recent outdoor bust, and the way the overhead light catches the tiny water droplets makes Holtzmann’s blonde hair practically sparkle.Like a Christmas angel at the top of a tree, or the burst of light as a ghost is captured. Erin’s pretty certain Holtzmann would prefer to be described as the latter.COMPLETE





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEP IT'S A CHRISTMAS / HOLIDAY FIC BECAUSE IT'S NOT LIKE I DON'T HAVE A MILLION OTHERS TO WORK ON. HAH. HAHA. HA.

“The only ghosts I want to see for the next three days are the ones of Christmas Past, Present, and Future while we’re watching A Christmas Carol!” Abby throws her proton pack onto the floor and slumps into a chair with a sigh.

“I’m partial to the Muppets version myself,” Holtzmann adds, placing her gear carefully on the shelving behind her desk.

Erin watches from the corner of the room as Holtz delicately puts each item in its place. To the general public, the Ghostbusters’ engineer is a whirlwind of chaos, but Erin knows better. When it comes to science, there is no one with a stricter routine than Jillian Holtzmann. At times, Erin drifts her attention away from the work at her desk to watch Holtzmann’s calloused fingers working expertly on delicate wire. The interpretive dance routine as Holtz dances to a variety of techno, pop, and rock hits is an added bonus that Erin can’t help but appreciate.

“We’re not watching the Muppets version,” Patty comments with a shake of her head. There’s a small glob of ectoplasm on her hair that flings across the room, unnoticed by everyone except Erin, whose face scrunches up in disgust as it lands on the floor in front of her with a soft ‘ _squish_ ’.

“Ok but hear me out.” Holtzmann pulls her suit off in one quick motion, unfazed by the fact that she’s standing in the middle of the firehouse in a tan camisole and a pair of reindeer-patterned boxers. She states her case excitedly, trying to convince Patty as to why The Muppets Christmas Carol is the greatest Christmas movie ever created.

It shouldn’t be this simple to make her come undone, but Erin’s a flustered mess when Holtzmann reaches up to pull the pins out of her hair. There’s a thin layer of melting snow flurries across the frizzy curls on the top of her head, a result of their recent outdoor bust, and the way the overhead light catches the tiny water droplets makes Holtzmann’s blonde hair practically sparkle.

Like a Christmas angel at the top of a tree, or the burst of light as a ghost is captured. Erin’s pretty certain Holtzmann would prefer to be described as the latter.

“What do you think Erin?” Holtzmann shift on her heels toward Erin and waits, head cocked, for an answer.

“Oh I, uh.” Erin wonders when it got so damned _hot_ in their lab. “I’m not sure I’ve seen it, to be honest.”

Holtzmann gasps. “Erin. _Ma_ _chérie._ It’s the Muppets. Need I say more?”

If Holtzmann’s mannerisms aren’t enough to kill Erin, the use of Holtz’s various pet names for her certainly will.

“We’re watching plain old, no fuzzy creatures, Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol,” Abby instructs on her way out of the room.

Holtzmann takes a deep breath to speak before Abby adds, “No Disney characters either. No Mickey’s Christmas Carol, Holtz.”

Holtzmann slumps next to Erin on the corner sofa and frowns, crossing her arms over her chest. “Grinches,” she mutters under her breath.

“I’ll make us some drinks!” Patty says excitedly before disappearing into the kitchen. “Don’t start without me!”

Alone with Holtzmann, Erin realizes that if she thought it was hot before, it’s practically a sauna with Holtzmann next to her, grinning with that perfectly dimpled smile and batting her eyelashes playfully.

“What?” Erin asks, slightly embarrassed by that way her voice cracks.

Holtzmann doesn’t say anything at first. She just keeps smiling at Erin, and it should make her feel uncomfortable, but there’s something oddly comforting about the way Holtzmann’s looking at her. It’s a bit more than friendly, but not exactly lustful.

Erin leans in a little closer so their shoulders touch. “Holtz?”

“Mmm?” Holtzmann’s eyes grow wide – inquisitive, listening.

And it immediately derails Erin.

“Movie tiiiiime,” Abby sings as she walks back into the room with the DVD case in her hand.

Erin moves away instinctively, pulling herself as far into the corner of the couch (and away from Holtzmann) as she can. Not that she wants to. If she had it her way, Erin would be as close to Holtzmann as she possibly could at all times.

Patty returns to the living room with a long tray filled with four creamy, white glasses. “I’ve got nog!”

“Oh hell yes,” Holtzmann exclaims with a pump of her fists, jumping up from her space on the couch next to Erin to grab a glass.

Abby quickly chooses her own and takes a sip. “You even put cinnamon and nutmeg on top. You’re a good girl, Patty Tolan.” She pats Patty playfully on the back.

Erin sighs contentedly, watching her best friends sipping gleefully with giant smiles on their faces. And then there’s Holtzmann, inching back toward her on the couch with a giant eggnog mustache across her upper lip.

“You’ve, uhh.” Erin points to her mouth.

It’s barely five seconds, but they tick by agonizingly slow while Erin’s eyes are transfixed on Holtzmann’s mouth and, more importantly, her tongue as it darts out and licks right to left. If she were to kiss her right now, Erin wonders whether she would taste as sweet as she imagines.

Holtzmann brings the back of her hand to mouth and wipes the remaining nogstache away.

“Erin, you’re gonna catch some flies with the way your damned mouth is hanging open,” Abby teases while handing over the last cup of eggnog.

Holtzmann winks at her.

Embarrassed, Erin stutters out an argument, but Abby shushes her as they start the movie, Patty sprawling out on the other sofa while Abby takes the recliner.

Truth be told, Erin’s not exactly jumping for joy over their Christmas movie tradition. They’ve busted all day, she’s got dried ectoplasm underneath her fingernails, and she’s absolutely exhausted. If she’d had her way, she’d have taken a hot shower, changed into some fuzzy pajamas, curled up with a good book and fallen asleep by 9:30. She doesn’t even _like_ A Christmas Carol.

But she _does_ like Holtzmann.

**-X-X-X-X-**

“Scrooge is such a…. _Scrooge_!” Patty comments fifteen minutes in.

Abby snorts. “Well, yes.”

Holtzmann leans her head back to lap up the last few drops of eggnog in her glass, then smacks her lips loudly. “I think he’s misunderstood,” she interjects.

“What do you mean?” Erin asks, turning her focus away from the television to watch Holtzmann.

“Well, he had a lonely childhood that just continued into his adulthood. He eventually had no family, no real friends. When you have no one, sometimes it’s hard to remember what the whole purpose of life is.” Erin watches Holtzmann chew on the inside of her cheek, pausing for a moment. There’s something a bit different in the way she looks now, less goofy and carefree and a little more vulnerable than Erin’s ever noticed.

Abby and Patty wave Holtzmann’s seriousness off with a shrug, turning to start their own conversation about which ghost – past, present or future – would be the most difficult to catch.

Holtzmann picks at the end of her boxer shorts and looks back towards the television, but Erin notices the change of demeanor coming from the woman beside her. “I’m listening,” Erin says softly, resting her elbow behind her on the top of the sofa and shifting her body closer to Holtzmann.

Holtzmann remains uncharacteristically quiet. Instead, she gives Erin a small, crooked smile and reaches out to give her hand a squeeze. The pads of Holtz’s fingers are rough and warm in a way that practically sends an electric current through Erin’s veins.

Erin expects Holtzmann to say something – a shy thank you, maybe, or to at least continue her Scrooge Theory – but she remains quiet, crossed-legged on her side of the sofa. The team eventually returns their focus to the movie until exhaustion lulls them to sleep. Erin’s not quite sure who nods off first, but the last thing she remembers is Tiny Tim on their television screen and a certain engineer’s head rested against her shoulder.

**-X-X-X-X-**

Her brain and vision slightly fuzzy, Erin rubs at her eyes with her fists. She blinks a few times until her sight clears. The soft light of the television casts a blue-ish glow on Patty and Abby. They’re asleep awkwardly on top of each other, one drooling, the other snoring loudly, with a long comforter shared between the two of them. If Erin had any clue where her phone was, it would be a picture perfect moment to tease the two with in the future.

Erin looks down, realizing she, too, has a blanket. And a pillow.

_Holtz._

But when she goes to thank her, Erin realizes Holtzmann’s nowhere to be found, gone like Ebenezer’s ghosts on Christmas morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos make the author smile and inspire more :)
> 
> Come say hello:
> 
> Tumblr: awomanontheverge  
> Twitter: @pattilupwned


	2. Chapter 2

Christmas Eve morning in New York City is eerily quiet. Erin watches out the bay window with a cup of coffee in her hands and a large blanket wrapped around her shoulders. There are no ghosts to catch, no reporters at their front door, and no hushed missions from the governor’s office. Erin rests her forehead against the cool glass and smiles, watching as a small spot on the window fogs up from the heat of her breath.

The holidays have always been hard for her. They’re a time for family to come together and celebrate, laugh, and love. But Erin cut her ties with them years ago, putting her own mental health before her theirs for once in her life, and she can’t help but feel a certain sting every year when December rears its ugly head.

Two people round the corner outside, walking hand-in-hand down the sidewalk as the snow falls lightly, wispy and shining in a way that is truly movie-like. They’re smiling and laughing about something, one waving their free hand excitedly as they talk while the other listens intently with a huge grin on their face.

They look happy. Excited. Loved.

Erin sighs and closes her eyes.

“You’re gonna catch a cold sitting in that damned window,” Patty chastises as she walks into the room. “How many times do I gotta tell you, boo?”

Erin shrugs.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Patty sinks into the recliner with her own cup of coffee and lets out a cross between a sigh and a groan.

“Where’s Holtzmann?” Erin asks, turning away from the window.

Patty chuckles. “Well, that answers that question….”

“Hmm?”

“Nothing.” Patty sips from her cup with a knowing grin.

“I woke up in the middle of the night and she was gone.” Erin taps her fingernails against the side of her mug.

It’s Patty’s turn to shrug. “Maybe she went back to her apartment? I don’t even know why she pays for that damned thing. I’ve only seen her go back there after she’s brought home a…”

Erin looks down at her lap. The unease at the mention of Holtzmann bringing some random woman back to her apartment can certainly be felt across the entire room.

Patty backpedals with a wave of her hand. “Nah, she probably just went back to turn up the heat. Pretty bad snowstorm comin’ through. Don’t want frozen pipes for Christmas.”

“Yeah, that’s….” Erin clears her throat. “That’s probably it.”

“Erin?”

“Hmm?”

“Have you ever thought about….well, _ya know_.”

Erin looks down into her coffee cup. A tired, warped, wavy version of her face reflects up at her, and she immediately wonders if she always looks this exhausted. “Thought about what?”

The sound of the front door opening derails their conversation, but Patty shoots Erin an all too familiar look that says the discussion is definitely _not_ over.

“Ho ho ho and a bottle of rum!” Holtzmann exclaims, waving a liquor bottle and a handful of Christmas cards in the air.

“Holtzy, baby, I’m pretty sure that’s not how the saying goes,” Patty corrects.

Holtzmann shrugs.

With Holtzmann’s return, Erin lights up. There’s something about Holtz’s excited energy that sends a jolt through her. It’s hot, fiery and addicting.

Erin bites her lower lip.

“Where’s Abby?” Holtzmann asks as she takes her winter peacoat off. Erin’s eyes immediately drift to those deft, skillful fingers again as they work at the series of thick buttons stitched into the grey fabric.

Patty points towards the kitchen. “I think she’s in there getting ready to bake Christmas cookies.”

Holtzmann’s eyes bulge and her mouth opens wide. “Please tell me she-“

“Yes, Holtz, I’ve made my buttercream frosting!” Abby calls from the kitchen.

“Woo hoo!” Holtzmann throws her coat across the room, where it lands in Erin’s lap with a soft swish. Erin’s caught off-guard, her heart racing as the scent of Holtzmann – cinnamon and oil – hits her like a wave from the fabric in her hands. It’s slightly worn, with a few small holes in the arms, but still incredibly soft.

“Get in here and help me bake some damned cookies!”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Holtzmann raises her hands in the air. “I’ve got something for each of you.” She turns to grab the pile of cards from the lab table, then darts into the kitchen to set Abby’s onto the island. Like a whirlwind of energy, Holtzmann bounces to each corner of the room, giving Patty her card with a goofy smile before stopping at Erin’s resting place in the window. “Here you go.” She holds out a red envelope towards Erin and flashes her a huge, dimpled smile.

Erin’s almost ashamed at the way her hand shakes when she takes the gift. The word “Erin” is sprawled in ink in Holtzmann’s messy cursive, but to Erin it’s just as beautiful as any calligraphy she’s seen. With the tips of her fingers, she traces each dip and curve of her name.

“Are you gonna open it or?” Holtzmann bounces back and forth on each foot.

“Oh! I…yeah! Sorry!” Carefully, Erin opens the envelope and pulls out a piece of pink-tinted paper. She lets out a breathy laugh. “A certificate to the jelly of the month club?”

“Erin, dear, it’s the gift that keeps on giving the _whole year_.” Holtzmann winks at her.

“Holtzy, baby, you’re absolutely ridicu-“

“I love it!” Erin interrupts. “I absolutely love it.”

“Really?” Holtzmann’s hanging on to Erin’s every word, eyes twinkling with excitement.

“Absolutely. Very thoughtful.” Erin smiles shyly. “Thank you.”

Holtzmann jumps forward and pulls her into a crushing hug. Erin almost sees stars, her head spinning at the feeling of Holtzmann’s cheek against her neck. The smell of cinnamon and oil is stronger now, direct from the source and more intoxicating than Erin had ever imagined.

“Merry Christmas Eve, Erin,” Holtzmann whispers in her ear.

The tickle of hot breath below her ear reduces Erin to shambles. She shivers in Holtzmann’s arms.

“Alright, alright, take the lovefest into the kitchen,” Patty grumbles.

Holtzmann pulls away and gestures toward the hallway. “After you.”

Erin stands slowly. She reaches out for Holtzmann’s arm, the most daring contact she’s managed of her own volition between the two of them. “How about _with_ you?” she asks, and it’s slightly flirtatious, and oh my god, it’s barely anything, but it’s _everything_. And the way Holtzmann reacts, slightly off guard is _everything_. And the way she smiles in response, not her usual, dimpled one, but one that’s slightly softer, like the one she’d shared last night, is _everything_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10 BONUS POINTS TO THE PERSON WHO CAUGHT THE CHRISTMAS MOVIE REFERENCE.
> 
> Comments make the author smile and inspire more :)
> 
> I was originally thinking this was only going to be 3 chapters, buuuuuut it might be 4 because I'm horrible. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, or just happy December weekend to everyone reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, or just have an awesome December 25th :)

When it comes to catching ghosts, Abby, Patty, Erin and Holtzmann are a well-oiled machine. They can practically read each other’s thoughts and sense when one of them may be in danger. The decision of what gear or method to use isn’t verbal, but a quick glance and a short nod from one team member to another is all it takes for perfect synchronicity.

The same cannot be said about cookie baking in the Ghostbusters’ firehouse.

“I’m only going to say it one more time. If you keep eating spoonfuls of frosting, I’m going to smack you with this roller.” Abby shakes the appliance in Holtzmann’s direction, who responds with a bulge of her eyes while she laps up the remaining buttercream from the spoon in her hand.

“Bt ehts ser gerrd,” Holtzmann mumbles through a mouthful.

Patty rolls her eyes.

Erin can’t remember the last time she baked homemade Christmas cookies. The most she’s done in the past few years is buy a package of Cookie Monster-blue frosted sugar cookies from the grocery store, and she _definitely_ hadn’t eaten them all in one sitting while watching Hallmark Christmas movies.

She plays with the dough in her hands absentmindedly. There’s sticky, flour-coated clumps under her nails, but Erin doesn’t care, more excited by the fact that she’s involved and included in some type of tradition in a way she hasn’t experienced in a _very_ long time. She looks away from her half-shaped cookie to Abby, who is stirring furiously away at a second batch of frosting. Patty’s lining the baking sheets with parchment paper.

And then there’s Holtzmann.

Erin’s practically has hearts in her eyes as she watches Holtzmann attempt to craft a detailed proton-gun shaped sugar cookie. Despite there being a huge set of cookie cutters in the center of the kitchen island, it’s clear Holtzmann’s determined to make her own creation; Erin wouldn’t have expected anything less.

“Uhhh, Erin? Are you making a heart?” Patty asks coyly, shooting a large grin in Erin’s direction.

“I – what?” Erin looks down at the dough in her hands, the dough she’s been playing with this entire time she’s been looking at Holtzmann and the way she sticks her tongue out just a bit as she crafts and the way there’s a little smudge of flour in her hair that almost looks like snow.

There’s a heart-shaped cookie in her hands. _Goddamn it_.

“Oh….well, yes.”

“How about you and Holtzy decorate it when it’s ready?” Patty suggests, with a shit-eating grin on her face that Erin wants to smack.

“I’ll go get the sprinkles!” Holtzmann says excitedly, clapping her hands before dashing out of the kitchen toward where they keep the extra cooking and baking supplies.

Frustrated, Erin continues to work the heart-shaped dough in her hands, pressing harder and harder until her fingerprints are practically embedded in the shape. Yes, she knows her crush on Holtzmann is obvious from Mars and yes, she knows her friends are just trying to help, but Erin can’t help but feel slightly annoyed. Anything that happens – and Erin’s expecting the worst, because that’s _always_ what she’s done – will happen slowly and carefully and _on her own_ …the ways Erin likes it best.

“You should come with me tonight,” Abby suggests, sensing the tension in the room and cutting it with a new train of thought. “You know my family would be happy to have you. And you get to take home dozens of cookies,” she adds, the theme of the Christmas get-together being a cookie bakeoff. “It’s a win-win situation, really.” Abby smiles at Erin, who is still looking down with her jaw slightly clenched.

“I think I’ll pass.” Erin gives her cookie a final tap and places it on a nearby sheet. “But thank you, and give your family my love,” she adds out of politeness.

“She just wants to be here alone with Holtzy,” Patty teases, reaching out to ruffle Erin’s hair with a flour-stained hand.

Erin narrowly manages to avoid it.

“I do _not_ ,” Erin insists, but that’s not entirely true. When Abby had mentioned the cookie bake off, and Patty had chimed in that her Uncle was throwing a family reunion where all her long lost relatives were going to attend, Erin had reveled in the fact that she would be alone in the firehouse with Holtzmann, who seems to share a similar sentiment as her when it comes to holidays. Holtzmann’s never really mentioned her family, besides the fact that she’s only really learned what it means to be loved and included when she joined the Ghostbusters, so Erin’s assumed that there must be a similar experience as her own in Holtzmann’s past that she’s kept quiet about. Erin would never press her, but just to be in the same type of company for once, someone who isn’t all about singing Christmas carols and playing card games after dinner and kissing under the mistletoe….

Well, _that_ part she might be up for if Holtzmann’s involved, Erin thinks to herself with a tiny smile.

“I’ve got sprinkles!” Holtzmann sings excitedly, fist pumping the shakers in the air. She slams them down on the island where they land with a thud.

“Purple and orange? Really Holtz?” Abby asks, slightly perturbed. “Red and green wouldn’t work?”

“Well,” Holtzmann begins, “red and green are just so traditional and boring. And I figured, why not jazz it up a bit and gives these delicious little frosting balls a little Holtzmann makeover?” She picks up the sprinkle containers and shakes them close to Abby’s face, which doesn’t exactly help her case.

“Alright, alright,” Abby concedes. “Let’s just get these in the oven so they’ll be decorated in time for tonight.”

“I get two dozen for myself, right?” Holtzmann asks. There’s no goofy grin on her face, Erin notices. Holtzmann’s not bouncing with her usual fervor. Instead, she waits for Abby’s response as if it’s the most important thing in the world, as if the entire balance of the universe relies on whether she can have two dozen frosted sugar cookies.

Abby agrees to let her take what she’s asking for, and a wave of relief washes over Holtzmann.

“Excellent. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to leave this kitchen because the smell of these babies alone is going to kill me. Not exactly sure how much good I’ll be if I’m the one haunting instead of catching those bad boys.”

Holtzmann winks at Erin, and like a clump of dough, she’s putty in her hands.

**-X-X-X-X-**

“Call me if you decide to head back to your apartment, ok?” Abby gives Erin a friendly kiss on the top of her head as she walks through the living area toward the back door. There’s several brown bags filled with cookies on either arm, but somehow Abby manages to move with an ease that Erin, Queen of Tripping Over Her Own Feet, is slightly envious of.

“Will do,” Erin agrees. “Now go or you’re going to be late. Traffic is gonna be a bitch.”

Abby waves goodbye to Erin, who is half sprawled on the sofa with a magazine and a mug of tea. She sips occasionally at it, skimming over the various tabloid articles about the latest Hollywood couples. When Patty walks out the door with her own collection of cookies, Erin wishes her safe travels as well before returning to the magazine in her lap.

Except, now she’s alone with Holtzmann. And as much as she wants to try to distract herself with crappy celebrity magazines or Lifetime movies, there’s nothing that could ever make her forget that fact. Still, she plans to play it cool, let their night together come naturally, so she feigns interest in her reading as she waits for Holtzmann to join her in the living room.

“I’ll see you later, Erin,” Holtzmann calls as she shuffles down the hallway, pulling her peacoat on in one swift movement. She’s halfway through tying a dark blue scarf around her neck before Erin jumps up from the couch.

“What do you mean ‘ _later_ ’? I thought…I thought you were here for tonight?”

It’s selfish, Erin knows. Holtzmann has no obligation to stay, and yet she can’t help but feel a tad bit hurt by the way Holtz is ready to barrel roll out the door without a second thought.

“No, I…” Holtzmann’s voice trails off as she turns towards the door. “I have somewhere I need to go.”

“Where have you been going?” It blurts out before Erin really has the chance to think about how…well… _rude_ it sounds. Holtzmann’s not a child, not someone to keep tabs on. “You’ve just been…disappearing, I guess,” Erin adds quietly. “Just worried, is all.”

Holtzmann grins. “Do you think I’m Spiderman? Disappearing into the night to defeat cartoony villains?” From anyone else, it would be snarky and sarcastic, but Holtz seems generally excited by the prospect of it.

Erin laughs. “No. I mean, I wouldn’t exactly mind the kiss upside down in the rain and all.”

This time, Holtzmann laughs, and it’s a gloriously sweet sound that Erin can’t get enough of.

“Erin?” Holtzmann’s voice is small, quiet, serious.

“Hmmm?” It comes out shaky, and Erin would normally be embarrassed by it, but in this moment, she decides to roll with the punches.

“Would you like to come with me?”

Erin wants to say yes, wants to say she will go absolutely _anywhere_ Holtzmann asks her to. But all that comes out is: “Where?”

Holtzmann’s bright smile, dimpled and huge, seals the deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, as I anticipated, this is going to be 4 chapters, but comments and kudos inspire the author to write faster ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **The author** : I'm going to have the last chapter of this fic up right after the holiday!
> 
>  **The universe** : Oh _really_? Would be a shame if I made life EVEN MORE INSANE for you!
> 
>  **The author** : Well, now I've got some extra time. I'll finish up this last chapter. Because it's definitely the last chapter.
> 
>  **The parts of the author's brain that make up the stories** : Last chapter, eh? I don't think so...

“For a New Yorker, you sure do walk slow!” Holtzmann yells over the noise of the tourists and families gathered in the city.

Erin stumbles a few steps behind Holtzmann. “For someone so tiny, you sure do move fast!”

Holtzmann stops and winks over her shoulder. “Ninja Holtzmann at your service,” she teases before grabbing Erin’s hand and dragging her further down the sidewalk.

Erin can’t help but be impressed by the way Holtzmann zigs and zags down several blocks, balancing a box of Abby’s sugar cookies underneath one arm while she pulls Erin along with her other hand. Erin barely has time to digest where exactly they’re going with the speed Holtzmann is moving, the crowds and the lights and the colors around her becoming one large blur. “Where are we going?” Erin asks, but Holtzmann doesn’t respond, stomping forward toward their mysterious destination.

As time passes, the amount of people around them begins to lessen. The lights grow dim and the road become narrower and significantly less dense. The thing Erin notices the most, though, is the quiet; the bustle of NYC practically buzzes in her ears at the stark difference between the two locations. Even Holtzmann begins to slow, her grip on Erin’s hand becoming less of a tug and more of a…well, Erin’s not quite sure how to describe it. Despite the fact they’re both wearing gloves, Erin’s fingertips practically tingle from the contact.

Right as Erin’s mustered up the courage to engage in some small talk, Holtzmann comes to a halt in front of an old brick building. Erin doesn’t recognize it – they’re in a part of town that she hasn’t really visited in years – but Holtzmann’s clearly at home by the way she’s practically beaming, her signature smile in full force as she looks up admirably at the worn and slightly crumbling bricks.

“Let’s go,” Holtzmann suggests, softly; however, the excitement in her voice isn’t lost.

Erin simply nods in response and puts her complete trust in Holtzmann. When Holtzmann pulls her along through the doorway, Erin follows blindly.

The inside of the building is surprisingly large compared to what it looks like from the outside. There are several rows of tables and chairs setup on one side where dozens of groups of people are gathered, smiling and laughing over what appears to be a holiday-themed meal. The entire space is warm and inviting and despite her previous nervousness, Erin feels strangely at ease.

“It’s about time you showed up!” someone calls from the other side of the room. Although it’s not directed at her, Erin turns as though it was.

“You seem to be getting along just fine without me,” Holtzmann teases. She moves closer to the woman speaking to her, and like a lovesick puppy, Erin follows right behind at her heels.

“Who’s the friend?”

Holtzmann turns and faces Erin. “She’s…” Holtz smiles at her. “ _Erin_.” Holtzmann sighs a little as she says it, and the slight inflection makes Erin feel like she’s floating.

“Well, _Erin_ , it’s nice to finally meet you.” The woman reaches out to shake Erin’s hand and winks at her in the same way that Holtzmann does, and she can’t help but wonder if it’s just a rule in Holtz’s social circle to be as flirtatious as possible. “I’m Marissa.”

Finally meet. _Finally_. As in, meeting after a long period of time. As in, Holtzmann’s been here before and has talked about her at a length that someone would be excited to _finally_ meet her.

Erin’s body suddenly flushes with warmth.

“I brought some dessert,” Holtzmann interrupts, her voice a little sharp as she angles her body between them; it’s a tiny act of jealousy that does not go unnoticed by Erin, who blushes a little before looking down awkwardly at her boots.

“Great!” Marissa takes the box from Holtzmann’s hand. “We were just about to start setting up for it. Dinner’s almost over, but Erin, if you’re hungry, feel free to grab a plate.” She points to the other side of the room toward a makeshift assembly line of delicious looking food.

Erin tries to stutter out an excuse, that she’s already eaten despite the fact that she definitely hasn’t, but Holtzmann’s already pulling her over to the trays of food and piling a mountain of ham and mashed potatoes and green bean casserole on a shiny blue plate. “Holtz, I think that’s enou-“

“Round one.” Holtzmann sets the overflowing plate in Erin’s hands. “I have to go help with dessert, but why don’t you sit down and eat? I’ll bring something over when I’m done.” She gives Erin’s shoulder a little squeeze before sending her off with dinner.

Erin stumbles toward an empty table in the far corner, feeling like the first day of high school all over again where she had to navigate through the various cliques before settling on eating alone. Except unlike high school, the people she passes all look at her with warm, smiling faces, but she can’t muster up the courage to start random conversation with any of them. Slightly out of sorts without Holtzmann at her side, she focuses on her food and picks mindlessly at the fried onions in her green bean casserole.

“Mind if I sit here?”

The intrusion startles Erin and she drops her fork with a loud ‘ _clang!_ ’ She looks up at the person standing at the opposite end of the table like a deer in headlights.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” the person – a girl, not much older than 20 or 21 with black hair that shimmers almost violet under the bright overhead lights – apologizes. “I can sit somewhere else if you’d prefer.”

Erin finally snaps out of it. “Oh, no no, please. Sit.” She points to the seat across from her.

The girl thanks her. “I’m Tessa.”

“Erin.”

Tessa smiles before cutting into a piece of sweet potato. “I usually come on Christmas Day instead of Christmas Eve, and everyone I actually know is busy serving. Good opportunity to make new friends, right?” Tessa laughs softly. “So, are you just here for Christmas dinner or do you work with the shelter?”

Erin blinks. “Shelter?”

“Project Hope? They sponsor the dinner here over the holidays. They’re absolutely amazing. I don’t know that I believe in all that religion stuff, but I can say that the people who volunteer here are angels on Earth.” Tessa stuffs a large forkful of sausage stuffing into her mouth. “Just angels,” she mumbles.

Erin turns in her seat and looks across the room at the serving station – at _Holtzmann_. She’s grinning ear to ear as she piles a plate with cookies and caramel-flavored popcorn. Carefully, she places the toppling plate in the hands of a young child and waves her off toward a nearby table. There’s a softness in Holtzmann’s face – right here, right _now_ – that shows her in a different light than Erin’s used to. It’s warm and overwhelmingly attractive. Engineer Holtzman is kind but focused, quiet and often guarded; this Holtzmann, however, is different and makes Erin feel something abruptly new.

The corners of Erin’s mouth curl up just slightly.

“Do you know someone volunteering?”

Erin whips back around. “I- oh, yes. She’s the reason I’m here, I guess.” She shrugs her shoulders and looks down at the table sheepishly.

“Did you two meet through the shelter?” Tessa asks before tearing apart a particularly large piece of ham with her fork.

“Oh – oh no. No. We work together.” Erin finally takes a taste of the green bean casserole she’s only played with up to this point.

“Work together or _work together_?” Tessa asks coyly, barely above a whisper.

Erin half-chokes on her food. “Not sure what you mean,” she coughs.

“Right,” Tessa adds with a small laugh. She carries on with mindless, awkward conversation that Erin completely ignores as she contemplates just how _obviously bad_ she has it for Holtzmann, who’s currently attempting to balance a snowflake shaped cookie on her nose to make a group of Kindergarten-aged children laugh hysterically.

“I’m uh…I’m gonna go get some dessert.” Erin stands up and grabs her practically-still-full plate. “It was nice meeting you Tessa.”

“You too, Erin. Happy holidays and enjoy your night.”

Erin nods a little and shuffles over to Holtzmann, who has now abandoned her acrobatic performance to slice up an array of pies for dessert.

“They’re trusting you with knives?” Erin teases. “Do they even _know_ you?”

Holtzmann snorts. “Shhhh, No one must ever know _ze_ _true_ _Holtzmann_ ,” she warns, the last few words in an over-the-top Russian accent. Holtz looks up from the tin pan in her hands and smiles, her head cocked slightly. “Except you, I guess.”

Erin grabs a stack of paper plates and lines them up in perfectly even rows. “I suppose I’m the Mary Jane to your Spiderman once again, huh?” She laughs breathily. “Knowing your _secret identity_ and all.”

 _Jillian Holtzmann_ : Master Engineer and Volunteer Superhero.

“If only you hadn’t dyed your hair back. Would have sealed the deal.” Holtzmann winks at her before returning to the warm, gooey pie in her hands.

And just like that, Erin is a warm, gooey mess of her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos inspire the author to write more :)


	5. Chapter 5

“First, we passed through the seven levels of the Candy Cane Forest,” Holtzmann explains excitedly to the group of children circled around her. “Next, we went through the sea of swirly, twirly gumdrops! And finally,” Holtzmann waves her hands around animatedly, “we walked through the Lincoln Tunnel and kicked some ghostly _ass_!” The curse word is met with a series of loud gasps from her audience.

“Miss Jillian, my mama says there’s no such thing as ghosts!” one child calls from the crowd, their words punctuated by a slight whistle as a result of their missing two front teeth.

“Miss Jillian is right,” Erin interrupts from Holtzmann’s side. She fumbles over the use of Holtz’s first name, so rarely used at the firehouse. “I was _there_.”

The children chatter excitedly amongst themselves.

“I even have the battle scars to prove it!” Erin adds.

“Show us! Show us! Show us!”

Erin rolls up her sleeve to reveal a long, red scar along the bicep of her left arm. The kids immediately ‘ _oooo_ ’ and ‘ _ahhh_ ’, now thoroughly convinced of the existence of ghosts by Erin’s battle wound. Moments later, the crowd erupts into a round of applause, but Erin only notices Holtzmann looking at her with a slightly concerned expression and a raised eyebrow.

**-X-X-X-X-**

It’s 11:30 when the makeshift dining hall clears out. Erin takes to cleaning off the tables with Clorox wipes while Holtzmann packages any remaining food to be dispersed in the morning. Most of the other volunteers have left, but the remaining few are stacking chairs and closing up for the night. Erin’s exhausted, and she can’t imagine how all of these volunteers do this every night during the holiday season. She throws the dirty pile of cleaning wipes into the trash and sinks down into one of the few seats still left out with a heavy sigh.

“Ready to go?” Holtzmann asks, buttoning up her coat and wrapping her dark blue scarf around her neck.

“Mmm. Mmhm,” Erin responds sleepily. She gets up slowly from her chair, hands on her knees as she does so, and grabs her coat from the nearby coatrack. Once she’s thoroughly bundled up, Erin returns to Holtzmann’s side and smiles. “Onward?”

With a nod, Holtzmann sashays toward the door and holds it open, escorting Erin through with a gentle pat on the back. Despite her sweater and bulky winter coat, Erin can still feel Holtzmann’s electrifying touch _– is she simply fantasizing it?_ she wonders.

When they step into the frigid December air, it cuts Erin to the core. She lets out a squeaky gasp, which promptly makes Holtzmann snort with laughter.

“I’m glad you find my freezing my ass off amusing,” Erin says dryly. She looks at Holtzmann and narrows her eyes, but the small smile on her lips strips away any seriousness.

With the city asleep, Erin notices every little sound as they make their way back to the firehouse. The snow – which has gathered by an additional inch or two since their Christmas Eve dinner – crunches rhythmically beneath her boots. She counts the steps – _thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six_ – until Holtzmann interrupts.

“Thank you for coming with me tonight.” Holtzmann turns her head to look at Erin briefly before focusing on the snow-dusted sidewalk ahead.

“My pleasure,” Erin responds. “I think I should be the one thanking you. You saved me from a night of horrible Hallmark Christmas movies and sweet and sour chicken from Rice King.”

They laugh in unison. Holtzmann’s laugh is a wonderful sound, one that Erin realizes she doesn’t hear enough of.

“Where did you get that scar?” Holtzmann asks brazenly. They walk side by side, but Holtzmann turns her body a little to run her gloved fingertips over Erin’s coat-covered bicep.

Erin stops and looks down at her feet, kicking the powdery snow into the wind. She sniffs, her nose running a bit from just how damned cold it is – or at least, that’s the excuse she’ll give if Holtzmann asks.

“Did you really get hurt during one of our busts? Was it from one of mine?” Holtzmann stops walking and turns around to face Erin.

Erin inhales slowly, shakily, and the air, despite the cold, makes her lungs burn painfully. “It’s not from a bust.”

Holtzmann sighs in relief, a little puff of breath flickering in front of her.

“I was in middle school,” Erin begins. She starts walking again and Holtzmann immediately follows at her side. “People are mean. The Ghost Girl stuff. My classmates weren’t particularly kind. I wanted to get away from it all, so I ran down from the schoolyard toward a nearby forest.” Erin shoves her hands in her pockets and walks a little faster. “I climbed up a tree so they wouldn’t find me. I just,” her voice shakes a little, “I just wanted to escape. I climbed up as high as I could, and they left eventually. But you know how graceful I am.” Erin scoffs. “When I tried to come down, I slipped and fell. Tore my arm up pretty badly.” Erin shakes her head and laughs again. “My parents were so _angry_. Not at the people bullying me, but that I had ‘put myself into harm’s way’ by climbing up the tree.” Erin wipes at her nose with the back of one of her gloves. “Pretty lame story, right? I figured being injured on a bust would seem much more cool to a bunch of six year olds.”

“Oh Erin,” Holtzmann sighs.

“Yeah it’s….” Erin shrugs, then crosses her arms over her chest. “What about you? How did you get involved with all of that?” she asks with a wave of her hand over her shoulder.

“Oooh, uhh…” Holtzmann scratches at the back of her head, and a little bit of light snow falls down the back of her neck into the wind. “Wasn’t necessarily by choice to begin with. Like you said, people are mean. And I’m…well, I’m _me_.”

“Holtz-“

“I went to the shelter on and off. Sometimes I would only stay for a day, sometimes longer. They never asked questions. I never said much. But they gave me a bed and some food and I was grateful.”

Erin notices the shaky breath that punctuates Holtzmann’s sentence.

“When Abby found me and everything fell into place,” Holtzmann continues, “it just felt right to give back. I’m not sure I’d be there without them, so I figured it was the right thing to help others the same way they’ve helped me. “ She shrugs. “I dunno.”

They’ve walked further than Erin’s realized, the sounds of the city slowly growing louder. Their quiet, intimate bubble is on the verge of being infiltrated by the New York City crowds, and Erin’s heart begins to race. They’ll get back to the firehouse and it will all be the same. Holtzmann will flirt and Erin will shy away, and nothing will ever change.

“Holtz,” Erin says quietly. The weather begins to pick up, the wind whistling in their ears and the snow whipping against their chapped lips and cheeks. “Holtz.”

Holtzmann keeps walking with her arms crossed and her teeth chattering.

In that moment, Erin decides the cycle must break. She comes to a halt.

“Jillian!”

That gets Holtzmann’s attention. She stops and turns around, her head tilted and her brow furrowed. “Erin?”

Erin stares at her. Similar to the night before, Holtzmann looks equally soft and angelic. There are snowflakes gently resting on her eyelashes and she’s practically glowing below the moon and the street lights lining the sidewalk. Without thought, Erin steps forward, closing the gap between them so that Erin can see her reflection in the blue of Holtzmann’s eyes. It’s not until they’re standing this close, this intimately that Erin notices just how short Holtzmann is and how it would just take the slightest dip of her head to…

“Erin?” Holtzmann whispers.

She’s looking up at her, soft and vulnerable and not the Holtzmann Erin’s used to, but just _Jillian_.

She reaches out and cups Holtzmann’s cheek with a gloved hand. To her surprise, Holtzmann doesn’t pull away. Instead, she leans into her touch and closes her eyes, and another white cloud of breath appears between them as she sighs contentedly.

And then she’s kissing Holtzmann. Or maybe Holtzmann is kissing her. To be honest, Erin’s not quite sure who starts it, but it all becomes an overwhelming blur as Holtzmann’s warm lips are pressed against hers. It’s a sauna, a Sahara that starts at their mouths and trickles through every nerve in Erin’s body. It’s nothing like she’s imagined and yet _everything_ she’s imagined. Their lips are chapped and they probably have mild frostbite on the tips of their noses from standing in the middle of a brewing snowstorm, but everything melts away as Erin kisses Holtzmann.

Holtzmann kisses Erin.

They kiss _each other_.

Holtzmann pecks at the corner of Erin’s mouth, then nuzzles against her jaw with the tip of her very, _very_ cold nose. The storm swirls faster and harder around them, but Erin doesn’t need to see through the blizzard because she can feel Holtzmann, can feel every inch of skin her mouth and tongue tickles. Erin _feels_ for the first time in ages and trembles below Holtzmann’s touch.

“We should head back to the firehouse,” Erin suggests. She’s not sure whether she’s trying to simply remind or _convince_ herself.

“Mmm. Right.” Holtzmann grabs her hand and starts walking in the direction of the firehouse.

“Holtz?”

“Yes?”

A beat. Erin stares at her, looking more than slightly deranged. Then finally, Erin squeezes Holtzmann’s hand and acts, pulling Holtzmann’s face close to hers by her coat collar. “I’m going to kiss you again.”

Holtzmann’s dimples show on either side of her cheeks. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

Holtzmann lifts her chin. Her eyes sparkle mischievously. “I suppose you should go ahead and kiss me then.”

Erin inhales shakily and licks her upper lip. She tilts her head and leans in for the kiss, but stops just short to admire the way Holtzmann looks, her eyes closed and her lips puckered _just slightly_ as she waits to be kissed. She looks young and fresh and strikingly beautiful. But more than that, she looks _vulnerable_ standing there, putting complete trust in Erin.

She kisses Holtzmann. And kisses her. And kisses her.

A large clock strikes at the top of an old church. The snowstorm picks up more, and Erin can’t really make out the hands on the old clock, but she can tell by the twelve loud rings that it is officially midnight.

Christmas Day.

“Merry Christmas, Erin,” Holtzmann breathes against her lips.

Erin brushes a few blonde strands away from Holtzmann’s cheek, wet and stuck there from the gathering snow. Whether this will last the night or for many holidays, Erin’s not quite sure, but with a new year comes a new Erin – an Erin that doesn’t shy away from what she wants. _Who_ she wants. Who she might even _love_.

“Merry Christmas, Holtzmann.”

This time, Erin’s _definitely_ sure it’s Holtzmann who kisses her first.

Merry Christmas indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We did it! The end! Thanks for hanging in there while this extended a little beyond the holiday. If you've celebrated any type of holiday recently, I hope you had a great one and thank you for reading :)
> 
> As always, comments and kudos make the author smile and inspire other things!!


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